


five times he's there for her, and one time she's there for him

by myhomeistheshire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 5 +1, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, this is actually fluff I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 00:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1708019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhomeistheshire/pseuds/myhomeistheshire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke doesn't always realize she needs someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times he's there for her, and one time she's there for him

 

 

_one_

 

When Finn finally opens his eyes, it’s all Clarke can do not to burst into tears again, racking sobs that threaten to tear her apart. But she can’t, can’t go through that again so she takes a deep breath and steps out into the glaring sunlight.

It’s amazing, how she adapted so quickly to some things and yet others continue to astonish her. Every time she looks up at the sun, she feels her chest expand, surprised by the beauty of it. When she'd been stuck in that room for a _year_ , with no human contact or anything to distract her from the cold, bare walls, she'd almost gone insane. She would've, if she'd been left there any longer. She'd sung to herself, sometimes, when the silence threatened to suffocate her. Lullabies, ballads, rock. She'd sing until her voice became so hoarse she couldn't make out her own words.

She still had moments when she'd wake up, sobbing and screaming from the nightmares where she was back in that room. But even those didn't compare to this pain she feels now, a deep, gut-wrenching agony that makes her want to scream and sob and hit something. But of course she doesn't do any of those things, because she’s a leader and she can't lose it, not when she has this many people relying on her. So instead of facing the glaring sunlight she turns to go back to her tent, where she can finally let it all out - but when she turns she nearly runs straight into Bellamy, who is looking as glaringly antagonistic as ever. When he catches sight of her face, though, something shifts in his expression.

“Are you all right?”

“Just tired.” Clarke says with a resolute smile.

“Go get some rest.” He orders, but not unkindly.

“No, they -”

“The camp can live without you for a few hours. Go get some sleep, Clarke.”

And maybe it’s his expression, or how he called her Clarke instead of ‘princess’, or that she’s just dead on her feet, but she finds herself nodding.

“Alright.” And then he’s moving away, leaving her to take the last few steps to her tent in a haze of confusion.

  


_two_

 

They’re out on a hunting trip, taking on a part of the forest they hadn’t explored before. There’s a lot of ground, so they split up - within shouting distance, of course, and paired up because they wouldn’t be stupid enough to send anyone off on their own. Clarke steps softly through the soft leaves, gun slung over her back. Bellamy jerks his head to show her that he’s going off to the left and she nods, veering over to the right. She hears a snapping of twigs beside her, whirls around - she doesn’t see anything so she takes slow, careful steps toward the sound, swinging her gun off of her back and into her ready hands. She sees the quick flash of brown fur, and starts walking faster - it looks like a deer, which would be a stroke of much-needed luck - they haven’t found much other than beavers and other small animals lately. She tears her mind away from the glittering green leaves and the endlessly blue sky with a long cloud like a rope strung out for hanging clothes to dry - something that’s hard to do even after all this time on earth. She breaks into a run, chasing the animal - it’s definitely a deer, now that she can see it up close - and her breathing is getting heavier but she’s closing in and she raises her gun -

\- and the ground folds in on her like an embrace.

 

She falls and her heart is rising in her throat and she can’t scream because the breath is ripped from her lungs -

 

\- and then he’s there, grabbing her arm, and she’s jerked back to that first day, when they’d been in the same position except last time he’d been deciding whether or not to let go.

 

This time she trusts him not to.

  


_three_

 

She’s out walking alone because she’s pissed at herself and at the camp and at their whole fucking situation so she’s stupid and reckless and she regrets it when she hears footsteps behind her. She doesn’t call out ‘who’s there’, just drops down into a crouch behind the nearest bush and gropes around the forest floor for something that will work as a weapon, fingers rustling the leaves too loudly.

“Hey, Princess.” A voice calls out, loud and hard but she can’t tell anything about it other than it’s male so she stays where she is. “Anyone tell you it isn’t safe to be wandering around on your own?” And now her heart is thudding because she recognizes the voice of Lake, one of the boys who was in for murder and who only listens to Bellamy because he respects his cruelty and who gives Clarke shivers down her spine when he looks over her like she’s his prey.

“Aw, c’mon. I’m not going to hurt you.” She can’t see his but she can hear his feral grin through his voice. “Isn’t it time you lightened up a little, Princess?”

His voice stops and Clarke’s heart skips a beat but she takes a deep breath, forcing herself to move even though there’s lead in her veins. And her fingers close around a branch at the same time as a heavy weight falls on top of her and she lashes up with the branch, she hears a huff of breath being driven out of lungs and she’s scrabbling away, desperate, but then he’s back, grabbing her leg, pulling her toward him. And she needs to think but everything’s happening so fast and she reaches for something, anything, but it’s all leaves and shoots and grass and he’s on top of her and she realizes with nausea that he’s not looking to kill her, not yet, and her shirt is ripped and his fingers are pulling on the waistband of her jeans and she hears someone screaming and realizes that it’s her -

 

And if there were ever a moment for time to freeze this was it, as she closes her eyes and prays that this isn’t happening, that this is a vicious nightmare, that she’ll wake up any moment now.

 

\- and then the crushing weight on her is gone and she hears a cracking sound and then someone calling her name, desperately, frantically. But she’s still stuck in the nightmare _this is just a dream this is just a dream this is just a dream_ and she can’t pull away _this is just a dream_ she can’t breathe she can’t think she can’t live _justadreamjustadreamjustadream_

“Clarke, please, _please_. You’re alright, I’m here, you’re safe. Just open your eyes.”

Her eyes peel their way open and she sees him just like she knew he would, and his eyes are wide and for a moment he looks so young and it just hits her and she’s sobbing and screaming and the sounds coming out of her don’t even sound human, but he’s cradling her and stroking her hair and allows her to breath through the noose of pain around her neck.

  


_four_

 

“I love you, Clarke.”

Finn’s looking up at her with those big puppy-dog eyes and she wants to say yes because this would be easy, so easy, but something’s stopping her and she doesn’t know if it’s herself or his past with Raven or a certain pair of dark brown eyes from a boy with a death wish, who’s reckless and sometimes cruel and yet who she can’t get out of her head.

 

The same dark brown eyes that confront her just moments after she leaves the tent, wiping away the dampness in her eyes with the back of her hand. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, just studies her intensely for a moment before glancing away and changing the subject, to something about ammunition and food supplies.

“Clarke? Hey?” She is pulled back to reality with a jerk, and gives her head a quick shake.

“Yes. Sorry. Keep going.”

“Clarke, what is it?” And she doesn’t want to talk about this, not to him, not when he’s looking her that way and she has too many emotions flying through her head and she doesn’t know what to think anymore. He reads her confused look, lets out a quick huff of breath. “Listen, we’re not going to be able to do anything with you distracted, so why don’t you just - tell me what’s going on.”

“I broke up with Finn.” The words force their way out of her throat. She doesn’t look at him, can’t -

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” And she isn’t crying but her throat is raw and she wraps her arms around her stomach like they’ll hold her together.

 

 

_five_

 

They’re sitting around the campfire passing around bottles of liquor that Clarke knows should be saved for antiseptic purposes but doesn’t really care because it’s lifting the oppressive feeling that has been squeezing the breath from her lungs for so long, and she’s floating above the clouds and _laughing,_ for the first time in forever without feeling guilty. They’re telling stories about back home and she starts to tell one about Wells because this is the only time she can think about him without feeling like she’s drowning but her words are slurred and she’s tipping forward and she falls on the ground and she can hear laughter and a steady voice saying “come on, that’s enough for you, Princess” that is all too familiar.

“I’m - ‘m good.” She slurs, and hears a soft chuckle as she’s swept up off her feet before the world starts to sway again.

“Never figured you for a happy drunk,” Bellamy says, and Clarke reaches for the bottle before remembering how it fell out of her grasp onto the ground, “but I guess you’ve got to lighten up sometime.”

And then she’s back at that moment and he’s saying _‘isn’t it time you lightened up a little, Princess’_ and then he’s on top of her and she can’t breathe

 

And when she comes back to the present Bellamy is so white, like someone hit him and the blood just forgot to rush back to his veins.

“I’m - Clarke, god, I’m so sorry -”

But she cuts him off with a wave of her hand because she can’t think well enough to speak, not yet. But the liquor’s too strong and then she’s crying again, she can’t count how many times she’s cried in the past few months since it happened and she hates it, hates being weak and pathetic and useless.

“You’re not useless, Clarke, don’t ever think that.” And she realizes with a jolt that she must’ve spoken aloud, but she can’t stop now,

“I couldn’t do anything - not about _that,_ not about my mother, or my father, or Wells, or Charlotte...”

“They were not your fault.” Bellamy says, his mouth set in a firm line.

“I’m supposed to heal them, _protect_ them.” She says, her voice remarkably clear even to her own ears. “But people keep dying.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, just holds her until she drifts off.

  


_\+ one_

 

When Clarke goes to find Bellamy his eyes are hard and he’s looking as reckless and destructive as she’s ever seen him, and even though she’s exhausted she grabs his wrists, makes him look at her.

“She’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that.” He spits, but she can feel the tremors running up and down his arms.

“She’s a fighter, Bellamy. And the worst is over. She’ll make it, okay? Trust me.”

He looks up at her, at that, and suddenly his expression isn’t hard but lost and frightened and desperate.

“She’s all I’ve ever had.” He says, his voice breaking. “Ever since my mom -”

“I know.” Clarke pulls him toward her, his head falling onto her shoulder like it was the most natural thing. “It’s going to be okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

She can feel him shaking, trying not to fall apart, and it hurts her like a physical ache. Octavia has to get better, not only for her own sake but for her brother’s - this is the first time Clarke has seen him like this, and she wonders - quickly, before she shuts the thought down - if he would be able to live with himself if his little sister wasn’t there anymore.

 

It isn’t until later, when Octavia’s breathing is back to normal and the blood flow has slowed and it seems like the danger has passed that Bellamy moves from where he’s been sitting by her makeshift bed. Clarke pulls him outside, because she doesn’t want to wake the other patients. And then he’s laughing and his breath is hitching in his throat and he’s holding her like she’s the liferaft stopping him from drowning, and his tears mingle with her own because she was afraid for Octavia and afraid for him and now it feels like a weight lifted off her shoulders.

“She’s alive.” Is all he can say and she nods, a lump in her throat for some undiscernable reason. “Thank you.” And then his gaze is searching hers and she doesn’t know what he sees but whatever it is gives him a wondering expression and she’s frozen in place and he’s leaning down to kiss her, burying his hands in her hair and she’s bringing hers up to cup his neck and there’s nothing and no one apart from them in the whole world and -

  


and  -

  
  


 

and  -

  


 

  



End file.
